


Parents and Guardians

by ami_ven



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Community: comment_fic, F/M, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 01:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18297677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: PS 118 is a normal public school, but some of the parents aren’t so ordinary.





	Parents and Guardians

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/566852.html?thread=79608388#t79608388) and part of my [MCU Happy Verse](http://ami-ven.livejournal.com/747461.html).

Principal Charlene Montgomery had always had a certain amount of admiration for those wealthy or prestigious parents who still sent their children to public schools, like her own P.S. 118. She felt that the inevitable moments of class miscommunication were worth knowing that tomorrow’s industry leaders would have a firm grounding in the ‘real world’.

It was that thought which led her through the cafeteria on Back to School night, a month after the start of the semester, drinking fruit punch and making a point to greet each of her students by name and speak to their parents, even if just for a few minutes.

“Hi, Mrs. Montgomery!” said a small voice, and Charlene turned, smiling.

“Hello, Frigga. And these must be your parents.” The first grader had her father’s blonde hair, but otherwise resembled her petite mother. “Mr. and Mrs. Foster, I’m so glad you could come. I’m Charlene Montgomery, the principal here at P.S. 118.”

Frigga’s mother smiled and shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. And it’s Dr. Foster, actually. Frigga has my name, not her father’s.”

“I am known as Odinson,” the girl’s father explained. “But I’m happy for our child to bear her mother’s name here on Midgard.”

“On Midgard?” Charlene repeated. She’d wondered what kind of parents would name their child ‘Frigga’, but she generally tried to ignore the rumors that surrounded her students. Only, in this case, they appeared to be true— Frigga’s father was Thor, one of the Avengers. “Yes, of course.”

“Daddy, come see my drawing!” cried Frigga, and pulled her father over to the display, chattering happily, while Dr. Foster stayed behind.

“Thor and I really want her to have a normal childhood,” she said. “Well, as normal as she can have, being related to aliens and superheroes. When I was a kid, school was the most normal place I knew, a good place, and I want Frigga to have at least some of that.”

“I think I understand,” said Charlene.

*

Stan Smith had wanted to be a kindergarten teacher for as long as he could remember. It hadn’t earned him any points with the other kids his age, when he’d spent most of his spare time on babysitting jobs instead of sports practice. But it _had_ earned enough money to cover his first year of textbooks, and eventually, led him to a job he loved.

The last three school years as an assistant teacher had been great, but on his first day at PS 118 as the full-time kindergarten teacher, Stan was just as excited as his new students.

A kid’s behavior on the first day of school could be a great indicator of what to expect from them for the rest of the year— the ones who cried and clung to their parents might need extra encouragement later; the ones who raced ahead, ignoring shouts to _be good_ and _listen to your teacher_ might need extra supervision; the ones dropped off by frazzled-looking nannies or drivers might need a little extra attention— and Stan was already re-organizing his seating chart as he watched them arrive.

“And you’re _sure_ you’ve got everything?” asked a man’s voice.

He was probably a college professor, with the rumpled sweater and worn dark jeans he was wearing, and he held the hand of a little girl with the same curly hair, carrying a bright green backpack.

“Yes, Daddy,” she said, which sounded like it wasn’t the first time. “Everything. More than everything.”

“Okay,” he said, smiling. “Have fun. Make friends. Let the other kids learn for themselves, all right?”

“All right,” she agreed, and hugged him.

Her father watched her walk down the hall toward the classroom. “Hi,” said Stan. “I’m Mr. Smith, and I’m going to be your teacher this year.”

“Hi,” said the girl. “I’m Brianna Banner. I can already write my name.”

“That’s great,” he said. “There’s paper and crayons on the tables inside. Everyone is drawing their families, and I would love it if you wrote your name on yours.”

“Okay!” said Brianna, then turned and yelled, “Bye, Daddy!”

She raced inside, and Stan turned to greet the next student as he arrived.

When the bell rang overhead, he closed the classroom door and walked around the room, watching the children draw. Brianna, he saw, had carefully written her name across the top of her paper in wobbly green letters, then begun adding pictures of her family.

The girl herself was clearly in the middle, holding hands with a man and a woman, who each had a smaller child-sized figure on their other side, presumably Brianna’s siblings. Her father was surrounded by a green blob that Stan couldn’t quite identify, but the girl had already begun to work on adding several more figures, mostly adult-sized— a tall man holding a hammer, beside a smaller woman and another little girl; two redheaded women, one in black and one in pink, holding hands; a man in what looked like a suit-and-tie and another holding a bow-and-arrow…

Brianna looked up and smiled. “Hi, Mr. Smith. Is it okay that I used the whole piece of paper?”

He smiled back. “Of course. It looks great.”

*

Ilene McGillacuddy would have been the first to say that she was enjoying every moment of her retirement, but she had been a science teacher for forty years, and when young Mr. Peck asked her to come back to help judge the science fair, well, she just couldn’t refuse.

She was glad to see the kids experimenting with new technology, but she was equally pleased to see some tried-and-true classics. One little girl stood beside a paper mache volcano, hands on her hips as she glared up at a man wearing a suit and tie.

“No, Uncle Tony,” she said, firmly.

“I wasn’t going to touch it, Frigga,” he protested. “The first rule of engineering is that you never touch somebody else’s project without their permission. I was just going to give you some pointers so that you could—”

“It’s finished,” said Frigga. “They’re doing the judging now. Mom and Uncle Bruce helped me finish everything last week.”

“But I was in Japan last week,” her uncle whined, sounding much more like a first grader than the girl did. “I wanted to help you with your first science fair project.”

Frigga smiled. “I know, Uncle Tony. But you’re here _now_ , so you can watch me set it off.”

“Absolutely,” he said.

He turned, looking around at the crowd just as Ilene approached their table, and she suddenly recognized him. “You’re Tony Stark,” she blurted, then flushed— really, this was neither the time nor the place.

But he smiled at her, just as charming as he always appeared on TV. “Usually, I am. Today, however, I’m just Uncle Tony, a humble spectator to the wonder of science that is Miss Frigga Foster. Are the judges ready?”

Ilene smiled back. “I’m the judges, young man. And I’m ready if you are, Frigga.”

“I’m ready,” the girl said.

“Then go ahead, dear.”

Frigga straightened. “My name is Frigga Foster, and I’m in first grade, and my project is a scale model of Mt. Vesuvius in Italy. It erupted in the year seventy-nine AD, completely burying the town of Pompeii, which you can see represented here.”

When Ilene looked, she could see the outlined shape of a tiny town on the side of the paper mache mountain.

“Instead of molten rock,” Frigga continued, “I will be simulating an eruption using the chemical reaction of baking soda and vinegar, which will create carbon dioxide gas. This will be messy. Please stand back.”

Ilene obligingly took a step back, and Frigga carefully poured a beaker of orange vinegar into the volcano. It fizzed loudly, then erupted, gushing orange foam down its sides. There was a moment of quiet, then a burst of enthusiastic applause.

Frigga beamed. “Mom! Dad!”

“That was great, sweetie,” said a petite blonde woman, as the tall blonde man beside her swept Frigga into his arms.

And their applause was no less enthusiastic a little while later, when their daughter was awarded second place at the science fair. 

*

Adam Gianelli was technically an ‘administrative assistant’. But his mother had been a secretary, and her mother before that, so he didn’t feel the need to correct people on his job title, especially with the kids here at PS 118.

His desk was the first thing anyone saw when they came into the school, and he tried to make a good first impression.

Sometimes, that worked better than others.

“I’m Director Coulson of SHIELD,” said the man in the suit, stopping on the other side of Adam’s desk and holding out a badge. “I need to retrieve Frigga Foster, second grade, and Brianna Banner, kindergarten.”

Adam blinked, then frowned. “I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t just take students out of school, no matter what kind of badge you have.”

To his surprise, the man’s expression softened. “That’s a very good answer, Mr. Gianelli. The children are certainly safe in your care. However, I’m afraid I do actually need to collect them both. There should be a note in each girl’s file, persons authorized to remove them from the school grounds, and you’ll find my name on the list— Coulson, Phillip J.”

There was a list attached to each student’s file, a typed contact form and a photocopy of each person’s ID. Both of the students had Phillip J. Coulson, Director of SHIELD, in their files, with a photo that matched the ID the man had shown.

“Yes, here it is,” said Adam. “Is there a family emergency?”

“Something like that,” said Director Coulson. “Speed would be greatly appreciated.”

Adam nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

He tried to keep his expression bright as he collected Frigga from the first grade classroom, then Brianna from kindergarten – children were very perceptive, and he didn’t want to make them worry unnecessarily. The two girls held hands as they headed back down the hall and into the school office, but Brianna pulled away once they got inside.

“Uncle Phil!” she cried, running forward.

He scooped her up easily, settling her onto his hip. “It’s okay, kiddo. This is just a precaution.”

Frigga’s small face darkened. “It’s my uncle, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Coulson.

“I won’t let him get you, Uncle Phil,” said Brianna.

He smiled and smoothed her curly hair, then set her down. “Thank you. But I’ve already got Uncle Clint looking after me.”

“Yes, he does,” agreed another man, joining him with a brief kiss. He carried a toddler on his hip that he passed to Coulson with practiced ease. “We’re assembling. Have you got all these rugrats?”

“I’ve got them,” Coulson said. “Go.”

The other man kissed him again. “Happy should be here with the car in a few. Stay safe, boss.”

“You, too.”

“Shoot good, Uncle Clint!” added Brianna.

He grinned. “I always do.”

Adam blinked after – Hawkeye, that was _Hawkeye_ – as he left. “Um… Can I help you get the kids in the car?” he asked.

Coulson smiled. “That would be great.”

*

Leah McAlister was early to her first PTA meeting after being elected president. 

Her children were in sixth and third grade at PS 118, and she had been a member of the PTA since her oldest had started kindergarten. It was a challenge sometimes, getting to the meetings with her schedule at the convenience store, but her kids were worth the effort.

There were still a good fifteen minutes before the meeting was due to start, so she straightened the chairs that had been set up in the school gym, and was re-checking her notes when she heard footsteps.

“Is this the PTA meeting?” asked a man, hesitating in the doorway. He barely looked old enough to have children in school, but he dressed like Leah’s father had – or maybe her grandfather.

She smiled. “Yes, this is it. You’re a little early, but we should be starting soon.”

“I gave myself extra time in case I got lost,” he said. “I’ve never been here before.”

“Oh, did your child just start school?” Leah asked.

“No, I don’t have any kids. But my… I guess I’m their uncle, that’s what they call me. Their parents are busy, so I said I would come to the meeting for them.”

“That’s sweet. I’m Leah, by the way, the new PTA president.”

He held out a hand. “Steve. What grade is your child in?”

“I’ve got one in fifth and one in third. Isaac and Isobel.”

“Oh, you’re Izzy’s mom!” said Steve. “She’s in the same class as my niece Frigga.”

There was only one Frigga at P.S. 118, whose parents were an astrophysicist and an Avenger. Which meant that Steve was actually – 

“Oh, my god,” Leah said. “Sorry! Sorry, you’re just… Captain America.”

Steve ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am. I…”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “You must get that a lot.”

“A little,” he allowed. “But mostly, I’m just another guy in New York. The other Avengers, with kids here… the school has been really great about letting them just be parents, like any others, and letting the kids be kids.”

“That’s great to hear,” Leah told him. “I mean, I think all kids should get to have a good school experience. That’s one of the things I want to keep in mind as PTA president.”

He smiled. “Honestly, I’m not sure what the PTA is. Or does. We didn’t have them when I was in school.”

“Oh!” she said. “It’s the Parent-Teacher Association. It’s a way for parents and teachers to be on the same page about how to teach our kids. We talk about new curriculums, new equipment, renovations to the building. We organize fundraisers and art shows, volunteer groups and things like that.” 

“Wow,” said Steve, looking a little overwhelmed.

Leah smiled. “We don’t talk about all of that at every meeting.” She hesitated, then added, “What you said, about letting the Avengers just be parents? I think it goes both ways. I mean, it’s nice to be able to trust Captain America to protect my city. But it’s much more reassuring to know that Frigga’s Uncle Steve is the one looking out for us.”

“That’s…” Steve smiled. “That’s actually reassuring for me, too.”

There was a commotion in the hallway outside, several voices all talking at once as half a dozen more parents came into the gymnasium. 

“Time to get started,” said Leah. 

THE END


End file.
